


Dribble Drabbles

by Distracteddiddlin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bladder Control, Omorashi, Other, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Distracteddiddlin/pseuds/Distracteddiddlin
Summary: It's just a collection of pissfics I wrote up on my own timewill be updated whenever
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

The bot fidgeted as it carried out its duties, making sure each planter received the amount of water it required. it silently watched the numbers in its visor count down as it watered the plant, keeping an eye on a different, ever-present widget in the corner of his readings.

Almost every bot it knew had its own quirk to it. Something that wasn't necessarily necessary for its duties, but it needed to perform or look after, as dictated by its programming. It was to make them more… human-like, in a way, the bot had been informed when it had asked.

The bot relaxed for but a moment as it finished watering _that planter_ , before it regarded the ones it still had left.

Some bots had quirks about keeping certain components clean. Some needed to have something covering them before they could work. Some needed more silence to work. This particular bot had a more… liquid-involved quirk.

It had systems that drew moisture from the air, collecting it in a tank that needed to be drained regularly. There were others with _similar_ systems, but this one had added quirks to it. When conditions were met, such as its tank being somewhat full and in the presence of watery noises, it would engage a less solid stance, needing to sway to keep balance, or shift from foot to foot. It had only once engaged the protocols for when its tank was half full, and it had been difficult to walk, its knees insisting on clicking together frequently as it fidgeted.

There was another added quirk, a sub-quirk if you would, to also throw a wrench into the works for the bot. It needed privacy to empty its tank, which was inconvenient for something not typically considered anything but a mechanization of labor, much less necessitating privacy of all things. But somehow the little bot had managed well enough.

This day, unfortunately, the poor bot had been interrupted. A job had run long, and its routine had been delayed. Its admin had informed it it had been requested for a sudden job, and they thought nothing of it when it had suddenly stopped emptying its tank when they walked in, assuming it was finished. 

The bot nodded as it received the address before leaving immediately as ordered, quietly noting the reading of 20% full on its tank. Unfortunately even the weather was against it it would seem. The clouds continued to gather, growing thicker and thicker, until they finally began to drizzle, and then properly rain. The bot watched the numbers climb as it traveled in the rain, a quiet warning flashing in its feed after it hit 40%, reminding it to empty the tank as soon as possible. Without any fanfare, the bot took the last couple steps up to the door, the bell chiming with a loud echo when it pressed the buzzer.

A series of secure-sounding locks clicked undone before the door slowly swung open. The lady of the house regarded the small bot with an unimpressed gaze, before sighing and ushering it in, closing the door behind it. "Honestly, I pay good money for service and _this_ is what I get as a replacement," the lady muttered under her breath before leading it further in.

The bot followed closely on her heels, its gauge faintly flashing 45% on its feed.

The lady opened a door at the end of a twisting hallway into a greenhouse, slotted somewhere in the perimeter of the large house. "I'm sure despite your appearance you can understand how delicate and rare these plants are," she began. As she spoke a system of misters clicked on, keeping the room at a specific level of humidity. "Normally, you understand, my plants are watered around a _strict_ schedule, but they're behind by _several_ hours, see how my babies are wilting already?"

The bot only half listened, keenly paying attention to the tank gauge as it counted up. 46%. 47%. 48%. 49%.

The lady turned back, sighing as she saw its twisted stance. _Why is quality help so hard to find?_ She thought to herself. "Please, I need my babies looking as happy as they should, get to work. They all need to be watered, and I don't know how you normally work but under no circumstances are you to leave puddles on my nice tilework. _Don't get the floor wet._ " And with that she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Had it been a necessary function, or even one programmed for it in general, the bot would have sighed, but instead it merely went to work, trying not to stumble as its knees insisted on clicking and twisting together. The misters clicked on every now and then as the bot carefully watered each plant, but with much less force than when the door was open to the rest of the house. But despite this very small mercy, the level in the bot's tank still counted higher. 

You might ask, "why didn't the bot just empty while on the job?" But unfortunately there were several factors at play that worked against the quirky bot.

One, while there _was_ technically a drain on the floor, much like where the bot normally would siphon its tank, the lady had also quite insistently insisted on not getting the floor wet, and this technically would qualify, at least it did according to the logic processors of the bot.

Two, the lady had also strained in her tone of voice the importance of speediness for this job. Speed being a component of the task meant that nonessential actions were overruled, which included tank draining.

And three, written quite close to the core of its programming was the tenet that the job was its highest priority. When on a job, all needs that don't directly impact work are put off until later. Where needing to be charged might override work orders, one loose screw would be put off until later. Not to mention needs due to "quirks" were quite patently labeled as "nonessential" in the highest degree, thus putting them below everything else. 

Which left the poor bot in its current predicament. If it were human, perhaps it would have let out pitiful sounds as it had to watch and listen to the water pouring into the dirt of each planter. Perhaps it would bounce with more purpose as its tank grew heavier with liquid, slowly but surely. Maybe it would occasionally glance wistfully at the drain in the corner, and fantasize about emptying out all that heavy liquid. 

But it was not human. 

It was a little bot.

So instead it continued to water the plants, swaying with locked knees as the gauge ticked up.

The bot watched as the sensor suddenly clicked to 75% full. Suddenly its free hand was between its legs, holding the valve slot despite that doing nothing. It needed to finish its job though, and slowly it continued to water as it wiggled in place. It was awkward to handle the hose and spout with just one hand, but it was easier to snooze the more and more insistent notifications if it clutched at itself, the warnings more obtrusive when it didn't.

As the bot went further down the planters, the heavier grew the misting cycles, and the faster its tank filled. It grew harder and harder to walk as its tank grew fuller and heavier than ever, each step needing more exertion to stay balanced.

Something new happened when the meter hit 90%. 

Its work directive was paused. 

Both hands flew to hold over its valve.

The bot was unable to keep from hopping in place, knees locked together as the two warning messages flashed in its feed. 

**[VOIDING IMMINENT]**

**[KEEP FLOOR DRY]**

The poor bot's processors kicked into overdrive as it tried to solve the situation, its tank ebbing nearer to critical levels as the misters clicked on and off once more. Somehow its work directive clicked back on if for a moment, informing it there were still plants that needed to be watered. It thus stumbled on a solution, perhaps not the best one, but there weren't many options available for the poor bot. 

Slowly it stumbled toward a planter nearby. It was keenly aware of how filled its tank was, sloshing dangerously according to its sensors as it tried to navigate the raised perimeter of the planter 

Suddenly a soft timer went off, and the misters clicked on again. The bot shuddered as liquid leaked from it, its tank overflowing, but miraculously catching it on the rim of the planter and not the floor. The bot barely was able to clamber up and squat at the base of the plant before the automatic voiding protocol initiated, water gushing onto the soil. The bot's processor fans let out a quiet hum as they clicked on, the different programmed quirks shutting off and on in succession as the levels in its tank gradually reduced. It was able to finally pull away one, then both hands from its crotch, before letting its knees swing wider once more. The collected moisture splashed noisily into the planter, but luckily the aforementioned plant needed a considerable amount of water to thrive. The bot didn't have a way to expel the liquid any quicker than gravity would allow, so it crouched precariously in the planter as it waited for everything to drain away.

Eventually, with far less fanfare than began it, the voiding stopped. The valve slid shut with a quiet "click" and the bot straightened, careful not to track dirt or water onto the tile as it resumed its duties.

The bot had barely put the hose back to its tidied state when the lady reappeared at the door. The misting system had of course continued to spray as the bot had worked, filling it up to where it was when it had arrived once again. 

The lady looked around her prized plants before sighing and regarding the knock-kneed bot once more. "I suppose it will have to do. You may leave."

The bot nodded, sending confirmation for services rendered to its invoice system before waddling its way out the door.

The snippy lady of the house likely wouldn't have approved of the puddle it left in the alley next to her property, but she hadn't made any orders _against_ it, so the bot surely couldn't be held responsible. It had been a rainy night anyhow, how was anyone to say where it had come from? 


	2. Chapter 2

Cyrus moaned quietly. He'd looked carefully to make sure he wasn't being watched before he darted into the stall, urine gushing out of his cock as soon as it was freed. A tiny moan of pleasure escaped him, his knees growing wobbly ever so slightly as his bladder relaxed and noisily emptied itself.

He'd scarcely flushed and turned to leave before he groaned in dismay, his bladder filling again impossibly quickly and pressing into his belt once again, with much greater severity. His hand was shoved into his crotch and he was dancing in place when his phone rang. He answered it with a desperate shudder.

“Someone was being _naughty_ …”

“I-- I'm sorry, I couldn't wait any longer--” 

“You mean you didn't _want_ to. You were barely half full.”

Cyrus let out a quiet whine. “I'm _sorry_.”

“I think you need to be… punished, for disobeying.”

“...Punished?”

“You remember the word?”

Cyrus nodded. “Molasses.”

A chuckle from the line. “Good. For starters, put in your Bluetooth and take some of the edge off.”

Cyrus swallowed and did as he was told, taking himself out and aiming at the toilet once more. He bit his lip nervously and jiggled in place as he stood there, cock in hand and not a drop leaving him despite his need.

“Well?”

“N-- nothing’s coming…” Cyrus mumbled, staring anxiously at the toilet bowl as he fidgeted.

“Oh? Well I suppose you don’t really need to go _that_ badly. Now go wash your hands, be sure to be _very_ thorough. And don't cross your legs, you just used the bathroom after all.”

Cyrus swallowed nervously but followed his instructions. He whimpered to himself as the water ran over his hands as he washed, his legs squeezed impossibly tight together, but not crossed.

“All clean? Good. Where are you?”

“At… At the park.” Cyrus mumbled.

“Ah! Fantastic! Let's take a little walk, you could do with some fresh air. Take a stroll to the center of it.”

Cyrus nodded before he remembered they were on the phone. “S-sure.”

“Oh. And no crossing your legs or holding yourself. _Don't worry_ you won't spill.”

Cyrus broke out into a cold sweat, but did as he was told. His bladder jostled with every step, the copious amounts of liquid within him sloshing and pressing to come out. It was nervewracking to have to go so badly and not try to physically bar himself from voiding, no crossed legs or hands clutching at his crotch. But true to their word he did not spill, something preventing himself from being able in the first place to relieve himself. It was exciting and terrifying to know that despite how terribly bad he had to go, he would not be able to at that time.

Before he knew it he came upon the park's center, and the large water feature that marked it.

“Aha. Even **I** can hear it sounds like you're there already.” 

“Y-yes… I'm there…”

“I'm sure you could do with a bit of a break. How about you sit down for a while, and enjoy the ambiance? Take a seat on the wall.”

Cyrus’s eyes bugged out ever so slightly but did as he was told. He sat on the edge of the fountain, the water splashing not a few feet behind him.

The city spared no expense with the fountain’s construction. The center had a structure which water poured like a waterfall down into the basin. Jets burbled and splashed into the water, droplets flying where the streams splashed back into the pool at the end of their beautiful arcs. But despite the careful planning, there was always one jet that did not work as planned. It burbled and splashed with less force than the others, looking more like an uncapped hose set to water plants, or a spigot turned halfway on, or…

Cyrus took the deepest breaths he could as he sat there, squirming so slightly to try and find a comfortable position that he knew didn't exist, his legs crossing and uncrossing, though it did little to help his need. Even without looking directly at the fountain he could still hear it, which was just as bad if not worse. The broken jet taunted him the worst, for that one sounded the closest like peeing, splattering wantonly into the water.

“Isn't it relaxing?” Came Dunn’s voice from the Bluetooth.

“Y-yes…” Replied Cyrus, his voice shaky with desperation.

“Describe the fountain.”

Cyrus whined involuntarily, his leg jiggling uncontrollably. “The t- tower in the center is constantly covered in water fl- ah, flowing down it. There are numerous water jets gushing up into the air before splashing into the w-water. One of them is broken and is just puh-pouring back into the water.” Cyrus stuttered as he spoke, bouncing where he sat as his poor bladder tingled oddly in desperation.

”Sounds impressive. It must be pumping _hundreds_ , if not several _thousand_ gallons through it.”

Cyrus bit back a whimper, it felt like that was but a drop compared to the amount of liquid in his bladder at that moment. “P-please. Could I?”

“Could you what? …..Oh fine, go back to the restrooms.”

Cyrus mumbled quiet thanks as he got up again on wobbly knees and walked back as quick as he could manage, his focus purely on relief. Every drop pressed at him, struggling to be freed as it sloshed back and forth in his bladder. Swish, slosh. Swish, slosh.

His heart dropped and he felt his bladder twinge strongly in protest as he finally reached the facility again. “It-- …it's closed,” he rasped.

“Oh? Ah yes, it is getting late I suppose. Oh well, nothing for it. I think it's about time you head home, don't you? How about you take the scenic route?”

Cyrus was silent, bouncing on the balls of his feet in desperation.

“Cyrus? You remember our word, right?”

He let out a long breath, bouncing from one foot to the other as his bladder hung like a taut balloon in his abdomen. “Y-yes. I’m… I’m okay…... Heading back the scenic way now.”

His bladder was so full, so firm, that his abdomen itself felt stretched taut. Each breath he took he felt his abdomen stretched to its limit by his full bladder. He briefly imagined how much he would need to drink, how long he’d have to wait to get this full naturally. Amazingly enough, thinking about drinking mass quantities of liquid, and putting off going to the bathroom wasn’t helping his situation. His need to urinate took up so much of his focus that he didn’t notice Dunn talking again until partway through.

“--I wonder how much it is, do you think? I mean I can see the visual of how full the device is, but I wonder how that translates to you _directly_. It certainly doesn’t tell me what it feels like.”

Cyrus swallowed, catching his drift immediately. “It-- It feels like a fullness I can’t really describe. Everything feels tight-- _nngh_ \-- it’s so swollen that everything feels cramped. Every step feels like it's pressing harder against my urethra…”

Dunn’s heavy breathing rang in Cyrus’s ears before he continued. “....Just curious, how did your earlier pee feel?”

Cyrus let out a plaintive whine, lucky there was no one else around. “It wuh--- was a relief. It fu-felt like all my tension drain-- _nngh_ \-- _pou_ \-- _hhhh, lllleft_ _me_. The way it all sprayed out felt _so good_.”

A shaky sigh was heard over the earpiece. “Well I’m glad to know it still felt good even though it was so little. That reminded me of something, pardon me.”

Cyrus broke into a cold sweat when he heard the sound of a zipper being undone, and the faint rustling of clothes being moved out of the way. His eyes bugged out, and he hopped a little in place as the sound of Dunn loudly peeing filled his ears. Every second was torture, making him aware of just how desperate he was to do the same, to let even a dribble out, or hell, even it all out into his pants. His breathing was still shaky as the sound of the faucet turning on and then off was heard next, and more rustling noises as Dunn picked up the phone again. 

“Sorry about that delay. Where were we?” 

“Dunn _please_ …. It **hurts**.”

"Okay. Get across the street. _You're doing so good Cyrus._ "

He whimpered, every second it took for the light to change colors was honestly agonizing at this point.

"Here. Hangon I'm gonna do something to hopefully help."

Cyrus couldn't keep back the quiet whimper of pleasure as he suddenly felt his bladder shrink ever so slightly, feeling oddly lighter as well. He almost missed the pedestrian crossing because of this, and had to scurry across before it went red again.

“Now go down a nearby alley and relieve yourself. And take all _the time you need.”_

Cyrus was confused, but didn't think to question the order, beyond eager to relieve himself at this point. His hands shook with need as he struggled with his belt and fly, his eyes flicking over to check he was alone as he struggled.

It took a few agonizing seconds for his stream to finally start, and when it did, it splattered terrifyingly loudly into the drain below. His heart hammered nervously as he kept glancing down the alley, panicked at the idea of getting walked in on. 

His foot tapped nervously as he kept an eye out, absently wondering why this was taking so long. He kept relieving himself improbably long but actual relief eluded him. It felt as if whenever any quantity of piss had left him, and his bladder began to shrink, it was filled back up just as fast. The barest hint of relief, being chased by the sense of desperate fullness was such delicious torture, and he voiced this with a pitiful whine.

“ _Take as long as you need_.”

“You're doing this on purpose.” He whimpered, his stream still gushing endlessly. “ _Shit. I hear someone coming._ ”

His stream cut off immediately at his panicked remark, only the barest hint of relief felt as he hurriedly zipped himself up and left the alley. 

“...Do you think you can hold it until you get home?”

He gulped, a cold sweat prickling at the back of his neck at the thought of waiting at least another hour. “ _Please…_ ”

“....I suppose you deserve a reward, find a restroom.”

It took him little time to make his way to a nearby convenience store, his hands shaky with need as he finally pulled himself out and aimed. “I'm-- I'm here.” He stumbled over the words. “I'm ready.”

It took several agonizing seconds for his stream to start before it gushed and splattered into the porcelain. It was a little weaker than he'd have liked, but he was too ecstatic to care. His eyes went unfocused with blissful relief, his poor bladder finally letting go. He felt the tension drain out of his body, his bladder finally relaxing. 

He’d finally begun to feel relief, the first niggling sensation of emptiness that he craved so desperately, when his stream tapered off, and stopped. He whimpered pitifully, pressing at his bladder and jumping in place. But nothing further came out. He was as full as he'd been when he'd first pissed earlier that day at the park.

"Better?" Asked Dunn.

Cyrus let out a long and shaky sigh, his fists clenching and unclenching as he danced in place. "Y-yes sir."

"Good boy, come home quickly now."

"Don't need to tell me twice."

* * *

Cyrus had given up any semblance of modesty as he held his crotch alone in the elevator, counting down the seconds until he reached his floor. His keys nearly fell from his hands several times as he tried to unlock the door, his hands shook so badly. He was so close to their apartment. To their bathroom. To _relief_. 

He bounced on the balls of his feet as he finally unlocked the door, relief within his grasp.

"Hey there stranger."

Cyrus whined quietly, his hand clutching at his crotch. " _Dunn. Now._ "

"Okay. Okay. Can I just show you something first?"

Cyrus bit his lip, bouncing on his feet like a child, but still nodded.

"Fantastic, it's in the bathroom."

Cyrus tried to pretend he wasn't mere feet from the toilet as he followed Dunn, just being _near_ it making his need to pee unbearable.

Dunn gestured to the balloon sitting in the bowl in the sink. "Here it is. See if I poke it--"

Cyrus shuddered, it felt like someone jabbed their finger into his poor bladder. " _ **Dunn**_ ," he warned.

"Go, I won't keep you."

Cyrus didn't need to be told twice. His hands shook from urgency as he frantically undid his belt. He stamped his foot as he barely recalled to flip the seat up. He could feel the ghostly pressure of Dunn stroking the balloon in the sink, the feather-light pressure sending jolts of desperation throughout him. With a deep growl of pleasure he finally gushed into the toilet. He heard the balloon spray as well, the splashing from the sink sending quiet jolts of need through him as he pissed, the dual streams echoing in the small bathroom. Cyrus gasped when his stream suddenly stopped without his doing, his bladder lurching at the interruption. " _ **Dunn**_ ," he gasped. His stream restarted, a groan slipping out as he resumed his desperate piss while Dunn withdrew his hands from the sink.

Eventually it stopped. His stream, and the one from the device in the sink. He could _feel_ the blissful emptiness inside him, and couldn't help the quiet panting as he finally felt relieved. Cyrus glanced back at Dunn, and a grin broke out on his face as he watched the other man absently knead at his crotch. "Enjoying yourself?"

Dunn let out a quiet, pleased sound. "Yes sir. I think it… it's my turn now."

"Oh I agree." Cyrus caught Dunn's arm as he stepped towards the toilet. He met the other man's eye as he still held onto him, staring intently as he flushed the toilet. "That's not what I was referring to," he murmured, turning him back towards the sink. "Show me."

Dunn mumbled something Cyrus didn't quite catch before gesturing at the emptied sack.

They both watched as it flashed briefly, and soon filled itself as it wobbled in the sink. It wasn't entirely _full_ mind you, but it certainly wasn't as empty as Cyrus's was at that time.

"Is this okay?" Asked Cyrus.

Dunn nodded.

"Wanna do colors?"

"S-sure…"

Cyrus smiled, reaching over to stroke the wobbling balloon. "I think you could wait a little longer, show an older man how it's done." He teased.

Dunn shuddered, but gave the other man a cocky grin. "Sounds like you're just copying me."

Cyrus rolled his eyes, but smiled, smugly. "Hmmm so you think I should do something different? Okay, stay here, I have an idea. _Don't move_."

Dunn shook his head, but did as he was asked, giving Cyrus an unimpressed look when he returned with the clothespin. "Oh wow. Original."

Cyrus ignored him, and twisted the spout of the balloon and fastened it closed with the pin. "Try to go."

Dunn rolled his eyes but stepped up to the toilet, making a big show of attempting to pee and failing, squirming and jumping in place as he tried to pee. He wouldn't say it didn't make him just a little more desperate, and sent a quiet thrill up his spine. He turned and gave Cyrus the same unimpressed look. "Big whoop, so you're being lazy and not using your hands." 

Cyrus raised his brow and shrugged, gently picking up the balloon with one hand, as he set the sink's spout going with the other.

Dunn wiggled slightly, his bladder wobbling disconcertingly as Cyrus held it in his grasp. "What are you doing?"

Cyrus glanced at the man and smiled, testing the temperature of the water, adjusting it until it met with his satisfaction, and filling the sink. His smile turned into a smirk as he then dropped the balloon into the water, smugly watching Dunn as it bobbed.

Dunn yelped, his hands flying to his crotch as he was beset by _strong_ waves of desperation, knowing full well that if that clothespin wasn't there that he'd be peeing full force. It felt like when you put your hands in warm water or step into a bath and suddenly you're reminded you have to pee. Except it _surrounded_ his bladder very specifically for some reason, making it hard to ignore how much it wanted to relax and let loose.

"How about that?" Asked Cyrus.

"Nggh, barely feel a thing," retorted Dunn, not acknowledging his desperate posture as his hips shifted.

"Well that's good, because I'm _tired_ after such a long day. Come join me on the couch."

Dunn paused, biting his lip as another wave of desperation flowed through him, before nodding, and following.

It took a few minutes for the two of them to be settled, having to readjust as Dunn fidgeted, the watery warmth that surrounded his bladder making it hard to stay still.

He rolled his eyes as Cyrus fiddled with his phone. "What happened to taking a nap?--" A shaky sigh escaped him as the soft sounds of a babbling brook burst from the speaker.

"White noise," replied Cyrus, setting down the phone. "How are we feeling?"

Dunn took a deep breath, another shaky sigh escaping when he let it out. "Green."

Cyrus smiled absently, his arm wrapping around him. "Good. Rest well."

Dunn took several deep breaths as he tried to recenter himself. He'd been able to somehow ignore his need to go, or at least focus on it _less_ , until Cyrus started those noises. It sounded like he was lying next to a creek, which did nothing to help his desperation. He closed his eyes and he could almost _see_ the scene before him. 

The creek babbled on as he tried not to move too much. He couldn't go, not yet. He tried to distract himself. His mind wandered as he imagined the stream came from a giant, trying not to flood the forest, letting out a slow trickle, but it meant it was taking forever. How very long it would take to finish emptying at such a slow pace, and how frustrating it would be to not let it all blast out at once. Dunn wished he could do even that much, even if he had to let it out in a trickle over a long period of time. 

He remembered when he was younger and was stuck in traffic on a field trip. He knew he wasn't gonna make it much longer, and he was on his own in the back, so he whipped out the bottle he'd finished not an hour earlier and peed into that. He'd squirmed that whole time, and had to go so slowly it about hurt so no one else would hear him, but it had worked. At least… he'd stayed dry on the bus anyways.

No, it… it was like bobbing in a warm pool. And you can't get away from a conversation and _fuck_ would you like to just pee, but that'd be rude, and you can't stop thinking about that urban legend about chemicals that make pee visible, so you just float and think about how bad you have to pee the whole time.

He tried to keep still as Cyrus curled up against him. He knew there was little chance of him leaking at this rate, but it was almost impossible to stop the desperate twitching and shifting of his hips.

He shivered as Cyrus's knuckle brushed gently over the swell of his bladder as he shifted. " _Cyrus,_ " he quietly whined.

His hand rested on Dunn's midsection with more purpose, not pressing down, but just as a presence. "Yes?" Cyrus asked.

Dunn groaned quietly as Cyrus's finger tapped lightly over his bladder, the ambient noise switching to pouring water. "Nngh," he mumbled.

"How are you?"

"Yellow."

Cyrus turned off the sounds and withdrew his hands. "We can take this to the bathroom now." 

Dunn whimpered and nodded, unable to keep himself from holding his crotch as he lurched over, despite it ultimately doing nothing.

"What do you want?"

"I want to keep playing."

"Are you sure?"

" _Please_ , Cyrus."

Cyrus gave him a look before shifting his hands away and undoing his fly, tugging at the waistband on his boxers. "Looks like you still have a little bit of room to grow," he murmured.

Dunn squirmed but nodded.

Cyrus smirked before letting go of the boxers, the waistband snapping back against Dunn with a quiet crack.

Dunn yelped loudly, his hands flying back to his crotch as he clenched with a grunt, his need _overwhelming_ for several tense moments.

"How are you doing?"

" _I've gotta piss like a racehorse,_ " Dunn muttered.

"That's interesting," Cyrus murmured. "Because I could've _sworn_ you just pissed a couple hours ago," he absently teased.

Dunn groaned weakly as the other man cupped his swollen belly. "...Kept hydrated…" he sheepishly mumbled.

"Oh you _did,_ did you?" Asked Cyrus.

The man nodded, swallowing thickly as his fingers gently splayed over his taut belly. "...Full bottle…"

"The liter one?"

Dunn nodded again. "The one with caffeine in it…"

Cyrus whistled. "So you're saying that you're going to explode?"

Dunn whimpered. "Don't say that…"

"Hmm? So you don't want me to talk about how you must feel like you're about to pop? That the dam's about to burst? Your cup runneth over?"

Dunn groaned, dancing in place. "You _suck_ ," he whimpered.

"Only if you ask nicely," said Cyrus.

Dunn groaned again and glared at the other man, his hips constantly wiggling.

"Do you have to go?" Cyrus quietly asked.

Dunn whimpered and nodded. " _Badly_ ," he mumbled. 

Cyrus stepped up behind him and rested his hands on the other man's hips. "Do you think you should go?" He asked.

Dunn shook his head with another groan.

Cyrus grinned and let him go. "Pull down your pants and sit on the toilet and relax every muscle you can."

Dunn whimpered as he did as he was asked. He could feel his urine pressing to come out, but an external force kept even a drop from coming out. He was full, so very full.

"Get up and wash your hands, but keep your pants off."

He whined but did as he was told, his bladder sending out jolts of desperation, alerting him that _this is not how you do it_.

"Still okay?"

Dunn nodded, his leg jittering desperately against the other.

"Sit on the tub, and don't hold yourself," ordered Cyrus. 

Dunn obeyed, a strangled sound escaping him as he heard Cyrus fill something up from the sink. 

"Take off your shirt."

Dunn let out a soft whine as his hand accidentally brushed against his taut midsection as he did so, his bladder sensitive beyond belief.

Cyrus leaned over the man with the pitcher, smiling at how Dunn eyed it. Slowly Cyrus dripped water down Dunn's torso, and the other man keened softly as the water dripped down him, wetting his boxers. "It feels good, doesn't it?" Asked Cyrus.

Dunn panted and squirmed but nodded.

Cyrus grinned and poured a larger amount down him, Dunn's boxers growing even wetter. "Bet it would feel even better if it wasn't from this pitcher though," he gently teased.

Dunn's eyes fluttered shut. His teeth felt like they were floating, and he already could scarcely think about anything _but_ peeing. He whined when Cyrus poured a longer stream down him, the lukewarm liquid utterly plastering his boxers to his cock and dribbling down his shaking thighs. 

Cyrus grinned and dribbled it specifically on his lap. "Imagine if this was yours, wouldn't that feel good about now?"

Dunn whimpered louder, arching ever so slightly off his seat as if _that_ would add some needed pressure to his crotch or relieve pressure from his bladder or _something_ to help.

"What was that?" Asked Cyrus, pouring a longer stream down the other man's belly, liquid trickling noisily off his boxers onto the tub.

Dunn groaned, his fingers clutching at the rim of the tub. " _Yesssssss_ ," he whined.

Cyrus grinned widely, letting the last of the water slowly trickle over Dunn's abdomen. "What do you think, Dunn?"

Dunn whined, panting as he gripped the wall of the tub so hard his knuckles went white.

"Now?" Cyrus asked.

Dunn nodded so fervently he about gave himself whiplash, his bladder feeling liable to explode.

"Okay, take yourself out and keep those knees apart."

Dunn whimpered and did as he was asked, the cool air on his damp cock doing nothing to help his plight.

"Count to fifteen and then you can go, but not before, you can hold yourself, but no crossed legs."

Dunn nodded, his thighs shaking from the effort involved in keeping his legs apart. He yelped, his hand squeezing at his cock as all of a sudden the clip holding it all back was removed, leaving just his hand and his own self control. A dribble escaped as he struggled for a moment and forgot to count. 

Cyrus took the lead there. "Six. Seven. Eight," he murmured into Dunn's ear.

Dunn whispered to himself "Almost there. Almost there. Almost there," as Cyrus counted.

"Fifteen," Cyrus eventually said.

Dunn groaned with a whine as his desperate dribbles finally could be a torrent of piss. He pressed back against Cyrus as he leaned back in his relief, urine splattering against the tub wall.

" _Careful,_ " warned Cyrus, cautiously supporting the other man.

Dunn didn't care, all he knew is he was finally pissing everything out of his poor bloated bladder, and it was _bliss_. His stream positively _thundered_ in the small bathroom as it drilled into the side of the tub. Distantly he was aware he could hear the little balloon spraying as well, but nowhere near as loudly as he was.

Cyrus rolled his eyes but cupped at the other man's still bulging bladder, feeling it slowly recede under his fingers as Dunn gushed. He squirmed absently as he watched and listened, his own bladder feeling a touch on the full side again as his kidneys had continued to work to catch up since earlier. 

Dunn continued to gush for what felt like an eternity, its ferocity encouraged by Cyrus's hand pressing down on his bladder, though he scarcely needed it. Eventually even _his_ peeing had to stop, slowing to sporadic jets, to a dribble, before ceasing entirely. Dunn sat there for a few minutes longer in a daze, his entire lower half utterly _tingled_ , and his knees felt like they were made of jello. 

"Finished?" Cyrus asked in a soft voice.

"Uh huh…" Dunn airily replied, slowly regaining his bearings.

"Good. Then you can wash your feet and the tub," replied Cyrus as he stepped back.

Dunn gave an airy nod before he finally snapped out of it. "Wait a minute, why should _I_ clean this up after holding for _you?_ " He indignantly asked. 

Cyrus gestured behind them. "Well _someone_ kept trying to fall out of the tub so I couldn't grab their magic bladder doodad when it shot itself out of the sink and…"

Dunn looked and saw how much water it had gotten all over the medicine cabinet and then the floor as a result of his gushing. " _God damn it_ ," he swore.

"So _you_ clean yourself and the tub, I pee, and then I mop everything you _didn't_ get in the tub--" said Cyrus, stepping up to the toilet.

"Bet you can't hold it 'til we're done," Dunn interjected.

"...We're never getting to the bedroom at this rate…" Cyrus muttered as he unzipped himself.

"I'll blow you if you hold it 'till the bathroom's clean."

Cyrus rolled his eyes but zipped back up before he went to get the mop. "Deal."

"Slut," said Dunn to himself.

"Takes one to know one!" Called Cyrus from the other room.


	3. Chapter 3

Gregwin gave a wicked smile as he finished the final steps of his spell. Oh how he hated that self-satisfied smile that Warren gave him whenever he was around. _Well this should wipe the grin off his face_ , Gregwin thought to himself.

Their rivalry had begun the first year of schooling, when Warren had hogged their shared privy so long Gregwin was forced to use his own cauldron, and had teased him relentlessly about it. He'd soon returned the favor, in a manner of speaking, sneaking diuretics into Warren's meal before an exam. Which had invited itching powder on his bedspread in response, and thus began the neverending cycle of revenge.

But Gregwin was _positive_ he'd gotten Warren for good this time. He glanced outside, it was midmorning already, he better get started. Gregwin regarded the large glass of water almost hungrily before he downed it, choking on the last dregs of his glass in his attempts to drink it all in one go. 

He glanced at his toilet as he finished getting ready for work. It felt like Warren had already had his first cup of coffee for the day, but he opted not to go. He didn't want to miss even a _second_ of the show today. The base of the spell he'd cast was quite simple, it was just a basic switch spell where one thing is exchanged for another. Even most cheap magicians were able to cast it to dazzle simpleminded audiences with their tricks. What _he'd_ done was infinitely more clever, for you see he had tuned it to switch Warren's bladder.

With his own. 

* * *

Gregwin had trouble hiding his glee not an hour into work. He'd taken precautions last night, and now the toilet on this floor sported an out of order sign on the door, and likely would stay that way for the rest of the day. But by some stroke of luck there had been _several_ miscommunications both above and below them, so they were utterly _swamped_ in paperwork. They would barely have time to use the restroom on _this_ floor and still get through it all, much less leave for another floor. His eyes flicked up as Warren shifted in his seat for the third time that hour, his jaw set as he looked over his forms. _The fun is only just beginning,_ thought Gregwin, taking another small sip of his drink. He was already midway through his second cup, but needed to slow down, to keep from arousing suspicion. It would be more fun to draw it out anyhow.

He couldn't help but reminisce about the first time he'd toyed with Warren like this, back in their schooldays. His rival had gossiped about him using his cauldron as a chamberpot, and it spread so far there was nowhere he could go without sniggering and stifled giggling creeping into his ears. It was only fair to repay the favor. Sneaking the diuretics into his breakfast was only one part of his plan, the real fun of course began during the exam. It was alchemy, and obviously it was a practical exam. It was easy to watch Warren's fidgeting from one row back, his shoulders stiffening as Gregwin added water to his cauldron perhaps a little higher than he needed with his waterstone, the splashing echoing against the metal sides. Every ingredient he added splashed tauntingly in Warren's ears as they were forbidden to leave the room before time was up.

Gregwin never expected Warren to get so creative however. Someone let theirs get too warm, colorful smoke billowing to the ceiling as everyone watched, and he took advantage of the distraction. There was so much splashing going on naturally, no one paid any heed to his as he filled some spare flasks under his robes.

Gregwin of course, had seen it all, and paid it little mind, it was only a quarter of the way into the exam anyhow. Well… he did get a little teasing in, asking in a loud whisper where the yellow vials on his desk had come from, he wasn't aware of any residue concoctions that were so… golden, as a few classmates glanced over. Warren ignored it as his ears burned red.

But the _real_ high point was the end of the exam, when they turned in everything. He'd ended up just barely in front of Warren, quite a few other students ahead of them. Warren of course, was still dealing with the diuretic, but was holding on by a thread. It was quite fun to watch the line slowly move forward as each student submitted their work and tried to curry favor with the professor, Warren's distressed mumbling as music to his ears. He took his time submitting his concoctions, making a show of fumbling and almost switching their order and dragging it on as long as possible. The poor lad made it up to the teacher, but couldn't take it any longer. Gregwin nearly strained a muscle laughing as he watched Warren wet himself in front of everyone, the teacher rolling their eyes in exasperation as the embarrassed student tried and failed to control himself.

It was a fond memory of his, but as they say, there was no time like the present. 

Gregwin grinned, peeking over his paper at his presently tense compatriot. He gave an impressed whistle as he made a show of reading it. "Well this is a fun one," he said.

Warren glanced across the room at him, shifting in his chair again. "And why is that?"

Gregwin chuckled to himself. "It's a claim for _flooding_ damages. Someone had a cauldron prepped to be bottomless, with a water placeholder, but it got knocked over in the night. Drowned crops and ruined a storeroom before it got righted the next morning. Imagine how that must've looked, all that water splashing out aaaaall night."

Warren tensed where he sat, his jaw clenching as he tried not to squirm or shiver. "Bottomless enchantments are regulated, unless they had a permit the claim needs to be denied," he snapped. 

Gregwin made a show of rolling his eyes, setting the claim in the appropriate pile. "Just thought it was a fun one, that's all."

* * *

Someone was feeling merciful and had sent their office lunch for the day. Or perhaps they just didn't want them to leave their desks. Gregwin glanced up from his papers and the last of his sandwich. Warren was tense in his seat, his eyes glued to his work as his foot tapped out an oddly frantic rhythm. He had to fight a grin as he went back to his own work, resisting the urge to squirm as his own bladder sent out a sympathetic pang of desperation. He decided to take a dangerous gamble a little time later, the last of his third glass drained as he finished his meal. He made a show of squirming more obviously, glancing down the hall more and more. He waited until he was _sure_ Warren noticed, before he got out of his seat with a soft groan. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

He rolled his eyes. "I gotta take a leak."

It was Warren's turn to roll his eyes. "It's broken."

"They can't _all_ be broken. C'mon, five minutes to go downstairs won't kill us," insisted Gregwin with a subtle squirm.

Warren glanced at the doorway almost hungrily before he grit his teeth and forced his gaze back at his desk.

Gregwin dawdled as he walked down the stairwell, silently willing Warren to take the bait. When Warren showed up much faster than he'd anticipated, he startled, the other man almost effortlessly overtaking him. That wasn't good, he grit his teeth as he swallowed his pride. "H--hey no fair cutting in line, I got up first," he whined, catching up to the other man.

Warren let out a hissing sigh as he let Gregwin take the lead again as they arrived at the second floor, the two of them turning the corner at the same time. 

They both froze as they saw the tiny note affixed to the door. Notes were never a good sign when it came to restrooms.

Gregwin stepped up first, squinting at the small and scratchy script. "Closed for cleaning… shouldn't take too long, right?" This was both good and bad for his plan. It was less suspicious and risky than his plan to "accidentally" lock the door behind him after he used it first. But on the other hand it would be simple for Warren to simply head to a different floor, it was unlikely they were all being cleaned at the same time. He needed to distract him. "So... what do you think is up with all the paperwork today?"

Warren tutted quietly,rolling his eyes at his coworker. "Honestly Gregwin, do you _ever_ pay attention? There was an incident at the northeastern branch and they only _just_ got everything sent out."

Gregwin grit his teeth, Warren's snobby tone clanging around unpleasantly in his head as it always did. " _My apologies,_ I was too busy actually looking over the paperwork to wag tongues with the delivery people like you do."

"Well perhaps one day you will be graced with the ability to do more than one thing at once, like walk and breathe at the same time," Warren taunted.

"Oh? _Well--_ "

"We need to get back to work," interrupted Warren, both getting the last word and denying his rival the right to keep waiting for the bathroom as he turned back to the stairwell. 

Gregwin made a show of hesitating, glancing back at the closed restrooms before following the other man with a wince. He would let Warren believe he'd won this battle, but he certainly wasn't going to win this war. 

* * *

Gregwin was quietly _thrilled_ as he sat down, not only had they been stuck with paperwork all day, a department meeting had been called at the end of work. He could barely pay attention as he gleefully watched Warren suffer, one hand oddly rarely present with the other on the table by that point. All it had taken was one knocked over pile of paper and there was no time for anything else before the meeting, the two of them being the last to take their seats before the meeting began. Gregwin almost felt bad about this, he was starting to feel tense at this point as well, even with Warren's sparse drinking. He couldn't fathom how utterly desperate Warren must have felt at that point. He must've been fit to burst, it was a miracle he wasn't losing control at the table, piss dripping from his seat to the wooden floor as his pants grew soaked. Gregwin shivered at the thought, his hand absently cradling his bulging bladder. _Soon,_ he told himself, _just a little longer_.

* * *

Gregwin watched closely as the meeting eventually came to an end, stifling a chuckle as he watched Warren gingerly stand up. It was such a shame everyone wanted to ask Warren his thoughts afterwards, and not Gregwin. Well, a shame for Warren that is. He watched him squirm for a few minutes before he left to get in position. 

Gregwin gave the bathroom door a few longing looks as he waited for Warren to arrive. He _could_ just take a moment to relieve himself, and lock the door on his way out. It _would_ be delectable to watch Warren struggle for so long, only for the bathroom to be locked. But no, he shook his head, no it was much easier to tease if he had even the slightest idea of what his desperation felt like. He lost the chance to argue with himself as Warren finally appeared, a grimace on his face as he rounded the corner. 

Gregwin cut off his path, standing directly between Warren and the bathroom. As mentioned, even with Warren's sparse drinking throughout the day even _he_ was in need of it, but there was no way it was anywhere _near_ Warren's need right then, and he wanted to enjoy this. He relished the flash of annoyance and how the other man grit his teeth at the interruption. "You looked distracted during the meeting, is everything alright?" Gregwin asked, his voice dripping with faux concern. 

Warren positively _growled_ in annoyance. "You know _exactly_ what's wrong, out of my way," he grumbled, sidestepping around the other man. 

Gregwin stepped in front of him again. "I don't know what you're talking about Warren, I'm just worried about you. You look like you're under a lot of pressure today. Maybe we could have a drink or two now that we're off work. I know we haven't always been on good terms, but sometimes talking things out can be _incredibly_ relieving," said Gregwin, catching the other man's arm when he tried to slip by.

Warren _froze,_ his free hand flying to squeeze at his crotch as he held his legs impossibly tightly together.

"Or perhaps it's _something else_ weighing heavy on your mind?" He taunted with a smirk. He watched hungrily as the other man fidgeted needily in place.

" _Honestly_ Gregwin, _**nngh**_ , I thought you were more creative than to use diuretics _again,_ " panted Warren, glancing anxiously at the bathroom door, just beyond his reach.

Gregwin chuckled, letting go of the other man. "You're right, I _am_ more creative than that," he gloated. "I wondered what it would be like to switch perspectives for a while, to walk a mile in each other's shoes…"

Warren glared at him, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought the urge to grab himself again. " _So that's why you kept refilling your cup…_ "

He chuckled. "I was a little thirsty today, sorry. It was kind of you to be so careful with your own water glass though…" Gregwin continued to taunt. 

"Honestly you're so childish," snapped Warren, his legs twisted painfully hard together. 

" _I'm_ childish? I'm not the one who looks like they're a second from wetting themselves like a petulant toddler." He smirked as he regarded the other man. "Tell me, how does it feel? To have the one thing you desperately need out of your grasp the entire day?" His own hand snaked down to hold himself as he continued. "How the thought must have taunted you, letting everything gush out without a care, your bladder no longer bloated beyond belief."

Warren winced, his leg shaking anxiously. "The third floor bathroom…"

Gregwin grinned. "Guilty as charged I suppose. It was sheer luck the lower bathroom was closed for cleaning at the end of lunch, honestly I couldn't have planned that better on purpose," he teased. "Do you think you're going to make it anyways? It was _luck_ you somehow sat through the meeting like this, but you look like you've already lost! How does it feel to make it so long only to wet yourself like a child not ten feet away from the toilet?"

"Do you really think you've won?" Hissed Warren, his hands twitching at his sides.

Gregwin nearly paused for a double-take, but was so giddy with power at making his rival squirm so childishly, that he waved off his growing suspicions. "Well I think anyone could see that, yes," he gloated.

"Ohhh Gregwin… you always had little idea of what you were _actually_ doing," said Warren, straightening with some effort. He walked up to him, looming over him despite their similar heights. "Your spell didn't switch our bladders," said Warren, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "You just traded their feelings," he whispered, completing the dispelling process with a flick of his wrist.

Gregwin dropped to his knees, gasping as if he'd been stabbed. His bladder was so very heavy, he was going to _explode, how did Warren walk so normally like this?_

Warren rolled his eyes as he regarded him for a moment. "Well this has been entertaining, but I _do_ have some business to attend to now that the meeting's over, so if you don't mind," he said, stepping around Gregwin as he entered the restroom, the lock clicking behind him.

Gregwin let out a shaking sigh as he squirmed on the hard floor, his trousers growing damper as another long leak escaped him as he fought to maintain control. He'd get him back, Gregwin swore, a small puddle forming under him on the floor as another desperate leak escaped him. _This wasn't over._


	4. Chapter 4

It started with a foolish mistake. 

He'd locked the bathroom door behind him as he got ready for bed. He'd been tired after a long day, and closed it behind him without thinking after he brushed his teeth. He regarded the door for another minute longer before he shrugged and decided it'd be something to deal with in the morning, it was late after all, and therefore a problem for future him to take care of.

* * *

A sink dripped in the background as he worked. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

The paperwork on his desk seemed to never end. Greg wasn't supposed to leave until it was finished. He sighed, taking another sip of his coffee as his pen scratched against the paper.

Scratch. Drip. Sip. Scratch. Drip. Sip.

Slowly, time passed. His pile barely grew shorter, and he'd begun to fidget in his seat. One ankle looped around the other as he shifted in his seat, back and forth as he tried to get comfortable. He scratched out a misspelling as his leg jiggled, distracted by a pang of need from his bladder.

_This is ridiculous_ , Greg thought to himself, _I'm due to take a break._

He got up and walked to the door, only to find the knob didn't budge.

“Ah ah ah.” Came the voice of his boss from the other side. “No leaving until you finish the work.”

“But I just need a little break. Can't I at least go pee?” He pleaded.

“Hah.” Scoffed his boss. “Just cross your legs and hold it like a big boy and _finish it_ already.”

He groaned and sat back at his desk, gritting his teeth as he tried to concentrate on the forms. His knees pressed together as his completed pile grew, far slower than he would have liked. Eventually his legs jittered against each other as his feet bounced, trying to ignore his swelling need. He adjusted himself in his pants frequently as the dripping sink grew louder in his ears.

Soon his legs crossed tightly over each other as he tried to keep both hands on his desk. His bladder protested as his hands trembled on the desk. His fingers clutched at the desk as his bladder complained. _Just a little longer_ , Greg assured himself with a groan. 

* * *

One hand was clasped at himself as he finished the last paper, his legs trembling as they twisted tightly over each other. _Finally_. His bladder sloshed disconcertingly when he stood up, his midsection heavy as he knocked at the door. “Okay it's all done! Let me out now!” 

The only response he got was silence, his heart sinking as he grabbed himself. “Okay. This isn't funny and _**is**_ illegal, let me out!”

Again there was no response. Greg glanced at the clock and realized it was lunchtime. _He must be at lunch_ , he convinced himself. He just had to hold out until he came back. He took a seat again, his legs crossed as he resigned himself to waiting.

It took no time at all for his desperation to truly set in again. He'd been able to ignore his need for a moment, when he still thought relief was a couple minutes away, but now that he didn't know when he'd get out his bladder had returned to the forefront of his mind. He pressed his crotch down against his seat cushion to hold back the flood that struggled to burst forth, shifting back and forth in desperation. He swore he could hear his bladder sloshing as he did so. Slosh. Splish. Swoosh. Splash. Every ounce of liquid in his heavy bladder swirling side to side. The thought did little to help distract him, as he couldn’t help but visualize his bladder as all sorts of liquid-filled containers, sloshing when moved. Like a big rubber ball, warping as it's moved back and forth, its heavy liquid contents warping its shape as it's jostled. Or a wide and shallow bowl, liquid threatening to splash out with every swirl as it touches the rim.

He tried to think about anything else, but every cell of his brain was stuck on how bad he had to go. _Just don't think about it,_ Greg tried to tell himself. Don't think about water, and the way it sloshes when poured into things, splashing when it hits, ripples spreading from the impact. Don't think about the distinctive noises it makes when it splashes, trickles and drips. And most definitely don't think about how nice it feels when you relieve yourself, your bladder shrinking back down as urine leaves the body in a thundering stream. And how long it will undoubtedly take to fully empty his full bladder.

The sink in the background did nothing to improve things.

Drip.

_Drip_

_**Drip**_.

_**D r i p.** _

Each drop of water that leaked from the faucet and splashed against the basin sent ripples of desperation throughout his bladder, his leg twitching each time. 

Drip. Twitch. _Drip_. _Twitch_.

_**Drip.** _

**_T w i t c h._ **

Eventually he could take no more. He waddled to the offending plumbing, and wrestled with the handle, both hands twisting the stubborn knob as his legs twisted tightly together, willing his bladder to hold on.

Something shifted, grinding slightly in one direction, and he held his breath, for the dripping had stopped. Greg breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing ever so slightly now he didn't have to be tortured by the sound at least.

His joy was short-lived, as the faucet let out a squeaky whine and began to dribble in earnest now.

He groaned loudly, both hands clenching at his crotch with an iron-clad grasp. The spout let out small trickles of water now, stopping and starting intermittently as the pipes groaned. It sounded like someone ordered to let it out slowly, whining as relief is that much longer away as their urine trickles out. Or like someone who barely started to go in a secluded place before being walked in on and having to stop, or trying to stop, but can't help the dribbles that escape, splattering loudly on the ground as their bladder slowly drains. 

His bladder throbbed, so very, _very_ eager to empty itself even as slowly as the plumbing was, as he bounced on his heels in desperation.

Surely it can't be much longer until his boss's lunch was over? 

He broke into a cold sweat when he glanced at the clock. _How had only ten minutes passed?_

He wasn't going to make it much longer, the realization doing nothing to help the throbbing of his full bladder. His legs were glued together as he swayed and tried to come up with a solution. The sink was too high to go in, and the trashcan was mesh. He'd be fired if he went in the corner, or arrested for exposure if he used the window. He whimpered loudly, fanning his legs desperately. Suddenly he remembered the vase. 

At one time it held flowers, but now it stood, deliciously and temptingly empty on the cabinet. 

He lurched over and grabbed the vessel, his legs fanning as he tried to hold on just a few moments more. Greg's zipper snagged for several tense moments as he swore and tugged at it desperately. Finally he was able to undo his pants, relief mere moments away as he pulled himself out and aimed for the vase.

* * *

Greg awoke to a knock at his door, his hands shoved between his legs, squeezed against his crotch painfully hard, his blankets kicked to his feet. He groaned, his bladder was firm to the touch, hanging heavily in his abdomen, loudly protesting being prodded. One hand remained at his crotch as he got up, clenching as he sat up, his bladder jostling uncomfortably at the change in position.

He winced as he made his way to the door to answer it, his bladder sloshing to and fro more from the movement.

The owner of the building stood in the hallway. “Just a head's up, don't use the water for the next few hours. There was a _major_ pipe burst and it's going to take some time to fix. It leaked into a lower floor and _flooded_ the hall.”

Greg bit the inside of his cheek, wanting to squirm so badly as they talked about water and bursting, but merely nodded terse thanks for the heads up, his legs crossing, and jumping up and down in place the moment he closed the door.

He just couldn't use the water, so he just won't flush, it'll be fine, he told himself as he approached his bathroom. 

His hand grabbed the knob, and Greg frowned when it did not budge. Desperately he rattled it for a few minutes before he remembered that it was locked, paling when he did.

He _could_ let the owner know, and get a repairman to come open it, but he was almost out of time as-is, his thighs tensing as his bladder throbbed dully in desperation. Not to mention he was loathe to let anyone else see how close he was to wetting himself. 

He swore his back teeth were floating as he considered his limited options. He was far too embarrassed to ask to use a neighbor's toilet, and was afraid they would say no, thanks to the water shutoff. He could try to make it to the corner store, but he didn't think he'd make it to the bottom floor, much less the end of the block. 

He gasped as he felt himself leak, clamping down as best he could to stop it. He barely succeeded but he knew he was running low on time, the dampness of his boxers tripling his desperation somehow. He racked his brain for what little options he had.

He couldn't use the sink, it was filled with dishes, there was no way he was going to be able to hold on while he washed them either, even if the water _wasn't_ turned off. He didn't want to use any of his cups, he had few enough as is and would never be able to drink from it again. 

His heart hammered in his chest as he feebly rummaged in the trash, seeking something, _anything_ he could use. His bladder throbbed dully as he leaned over, his hem cutting into it and making him leak into his boxers again. Greg nearly sobbed in anticipation of relief when he found an empty bottle, another trickle of urine wetting his boxers even further. 

It was the lid of the bottle that proved to be his next undoing. He was leaking very slowly into his pants even with the ironclad grip on his crotch, and the cap refused to budge for his one hand, or his teeth. With a grunt he gave up and struggled to open it with both hands, his stream already started when he finally next struggled with his pants to aim himself into the open bottle.

The release was heavenly, and sent shivers up his spine. Every ounce of tension seemed to slowly drain out of him as his urine roared against the plastic interior. 

He hadn't really been paying attention as he went, too caught up in the impending relief, before he realised something. 

The bottle he'd found, while _something,_ was not a particularly large one, and was rapidly filling up. It was filling up and he still had more to let out. 

With effort he was able to stop his stream, the bottle verging on dangerously full when he did. While lucky to have taken off some of the pressure at least, he didn't _feel_ particularly lucky. In fact all he felt was _incredibly_ desperate, his bladder wanting to finish voiding itself, the taste of relief still on his tongue doing _nothing_ to help matters. 

His bladder tingling with need, he hatched a plan. He threw on some clothes, squirming to keep control when he changed out of his pajama pants, the air against his bare cock making it nearly impossible to resist peeing. But he'd go to the corner store, they required a purchase, but at least they had a customer bathroom, and weren’t far.

The walk downstairs had _felt_ treacherous, but somehow he held out, his poor bladder sloshing with every step.

When he reached the store, one phrase ran through his head at high speed. _Pee soon. Pee soon. Pee soon_. 

So preoccupied with his overwhelming need to pee, he almost didn’t catch the cashier’s conversation as he walked to the snack area.

“I’m sorry sir, it’s a new policy.”

“Since _when?_ ” 

“Since this week, I’m sorry it's the owner’s wishes, we no longer have a public bathroom.”

He had to discreetly jam his fist into his crotch to stop a leak that almost happened at that, the surprise causing him to stop clenching for just a moment. He set back the snack he was going to buy on a whim, his plan no longer feasible. He couldn’t go at the store, not anymore. He couldn’t go at home, he was locked out of the bathroom. He couldn’t go in an alleyway, it was broad daylight, and he’d nearly been caught last time. He needed a solution, and he needed one _now_.

Suddenly a thought struck him. It wasn’t a _good_ plan, per se, but it was the only one he had.

* * *

He jostled from foot to foot as he waited for the elevator, no longer caring about letting his desperation show in public. His hand frequently adjusted his pants as his other clutched at his purchase almost frantically. No posture was comfortable at this point, the best he could hope for was one that kept him dry longer… well mostly, anyways.

He'd leaked one short spurt as he'd left the store, one that sent a shiver up his spine as his briefs dampened and he fought not to let loose right then. Then another eked out as the elevator doors had closed, a few stray drops warming the damp patch of fabric that clung to him as he gripped at his cock and pleaded with his poor bladder to hold on a little longer, he was nearly there. He bounced on the balls of his feet, shuffling from foot to foot as he did his desperate dance as he waited for the elevator to reach his floor. Midway there it lurched and halted for a tense moment, still just below his floor. Greg's heart stuck in his throat as he pleaded to whoever was listening that he wasn't going to be stuck in the elevator, not now, not when he was so close. He still had nightmares about the last time he'd gotten stuck. He hadn't needed to go when he'd first gotten trapped, but by the time he was freed he had grown more than a little nervous and tense.

Suddenly there was another jolt and the elevator sprung back to life. He didn't have time to celebrate, instead dashing to his apartment as soon as the doors opened.

Greg winced as the knob slid out of his grip, the door slamming behind him on accident, but paid it no further mind as he frantically wrestled with his new purchase and his fly. He pulled out the eerily familiar vase as another full body shudder of desperation wracked him. _Just a few moments longer,_ he promised himself. Greg whimpered as he set the vase on the ground, he was so close now. His fingers shook as he grasped his zipper, slipping out of his grasp a few times as he struggled to tug it open. With a frantic grip he tore open his fly, panting as he struggled to hold back even half a second longer. Time slowed for a moment when he finally wrestled his cock out of his briefs, the tip more than a little damp as he aimed into the vase, the apartment dead silent. 

He gasped as soon as his stream hit the air, utterly unable to hold himself back any longer. If something happened and he needed to stop peeing he would have been utterly incapable, not that he had any desire to hold his poor bladder any longer. His stream practically roared against the thin plastic sides, spraying harshly into it. Despite how full he was his stream still sputtered and trailed off as his bladder cramped, a grunt escaping him as he did, feeling like a knife in the gut each time before he resumed. 

Greg couldn't help but silently marvel at how much piss he was expelling as he peed. He'd seen the stiff bulge of his abdomen, and felt his back teeth float as he struggled not to wet, but it still was quietly disconcerting to see just how much he'd held onto. As improbable as it was, he briefly worried that the large vase wasn't big enough, still filling as he ceaselessly pissed. 

But as with all things on earth, eventually even his thunderous piss came to an end, the vase thankfully not overflowing. Greg panted, his bladder tingling as it finished, a few whimper-inducing trickles splashing into the vase before all was utterly said and done. He had _never_ had to piss so terribly in his life before, and needed a moment to bask in how good he felt right then. As with his peeing, even his basking in the moment had to end. 

He regarded the vase, then his locked bathroom door, sighing to himself. Greg still had several things to take care of that morning, it appeared. But… he had one last thing to take care of first, he told himself as he sat on his mattress, allowing his hand to stroke over his half-erection with a sound of pleasure. 


	5. Chapter 5

Every door Mark tried was locked. His legs shook as he pressed his thighs together, jiggling the handle frantically. _Come on. Come on. There has to be an open one somewhere_.

He groaned in frustration, knocking desperately at the next locked door.

“Occupied.” Came a voice from within.

He whimpered, and resolved to wait for this one. Mark's legs twisted painfully hard over one another as he waited. He could hear whoever was inside peeing very loudly, and his bladder throbbed at the sound. Minutes passed and he wasn't sure he could stand to listen to it any longer. Mark knocked again. He had to be mistaken, it had to be a faucet or something. 

“Occupied.” Said the voice once more.

He whimpered and moved along. 

Every door was locked, either out of order or occupied, the sound of a shower running behind a few of the doors oddly enough.

This was _urgent._

This was a _crisis._

This was _**torture**._

This was… clearly a dream.

How many bathroom doors were in this endless hallway? And they were all occupied? Clearly a dream.

Which made it worse, somehow. He knew this was a dream, which meant he actually _really_ had to pee, but Mark knew if he peed _now_ he would surely wet his bed. Which... meant now everything shifted in his dream to make him pee no matter what. 

Suddenly he found himself standing in front of a urinal, the object he'd been frantically searching for moments before. The porcelain sparkled as it tempted him terribly, calling out to his aching bladder. He didn't know how he ended up there, one minute he was in the hall, the next he was in the bathroom. 

It would be so easy to unzip and just… 

He groaned, gripping his crotch before he turned and walked back out. _No peeing,_ he told himself, _not under any circumstances._

He turned a corner in the corridor and he was suddenly in a park.

He took a seat on a nearby bench, his legs tensing as he tried to settle down. The park was absolutely secluded, not another soul to be seen. 

An opulent fountain sparkled and splashed nearby, depicting several cherubim peeing freely into the surrounding basin, their streams eternally tormenting as they splashed. Their streams pattered melodically into the water, both convincing and impossible to ignore, and if it weren't for the breeze and nature sounds he might've been convinced he was in a busy restroom. There were numerous trees nearby, each providing ample cover. And a public restroom sat in the near distance, open and waiting. Not to mention the bench he sat on was neatly cordoned off by tall hedges, neatly hiding any and all indiscretion.

Mark groaned as he leaned back on the bench, his legs fanning against his hands as he held himself in an iron grip. 

He couldn't help but remember the last time he'd needed to pee at a park so badly. He was waiting for a ride from a friend who was running late, and the coffee he'd drank earlier, despite being delicious, had very much so been a mistake. His friend finally showed up when he'd given up and began looking for anywhere secluded, his bladder firm to the touch. Despite everything he'd somehow made it back to the apartment, his bladder painfully full by the time he'd finally been able to pee.

Mark groaned at a particularly loud splash from the fountain. He had to leave, he needed to get away from the fountain. With another groan he stood, clutching himself as he started to walk, growing more and more unsure of his ability to stay dry. He refused to make eye contact with the restrooms as he passed, ignoring the siren song of plumbing from within. Not thinking about how _easy_ it would be to walk in and just piss. It was right there, ready and waiting for his aching bladder. 

The trail twisted this way and that, and remained utterly secluded as he walked. He passed by numerous trees and plants that practically _begged_ to be pissed upon, but he ignored them and his swollen bladder as he trudged on.

Suddenly he took one last turn and he found himself in front of a bush. 

No. No, not just any bush. 

Mark _knew_ this leafy plant well. 

He could (unfortunately) remember _vividly_ his run-ins with this particular bush. Such as the few times he'd locked himself out of the house after waiting all day at school, having been far from eager to deal with the public restrooms despite how he squirmed on the bus ride home each time. Or the time he'd been dared to guzzle a 2-liter of saccharinely sweet soda during a video game marathon and his brother _"mysteriously"_ remembered he needed to take a shower right when he couldn't take it any longer. Or the time the family had gotten caught in _horrendous_ traffic at the end of their vacation, and his brother had _barely_ beaten him to the bathroom and waiting was no option, not with how his back teeth were floating when they pulled in the driveway, thanks to all that soda from the drive-through. That bush had helped him many a time he'd been caught short, but now was not the time for such help.

He sweat as he regarded the plant, just the sight of it making it harder to hold out. He could faintly hear the trickle of liquid splattering against its leaves and twigs, a sound he knew quite well. The pattering was slow and hesitant at first, as if unsure or cramped up, before it grew in volume as he looked at the bush, until it positively thundered in his ears. It sounded like a firehose was spraying at the leaves, a miracle the plant didn't disintegrate with how loud and forceful it seemed. He could feel the same strain in his bladder as the spraying continued to deafen him, recalling those last torturous moments before he always pissed on the bush. How firm and stiff his bladder was to the touch, and how it cramped at the start. How the first spurts of piss _ached_ before he managed to go in earnest, the relief sending shivers up his spine. 

He turned and slowly began to walk away, his hands grabbing at his cock in a deathgrip as the sound slowly faded petering off in the distance. _No peeing,_ he reminded himself, _no matter how much you feel like you're about to explode._ He whimpered as he pinched the tip of his cock. He felt like a kinked hose, nothing leaking out just yet as pressure continues to build up further up the line.

He looked down and suddenly he was in front of the bush once again, the splashing positively _thundering_ in his eardrums. It still echoed in his head as he tried to cover his ears, his legs twisting and shaking, bouncing from foot to foot as he tried to hold on without his hands. He felt so swollen, like an over full waterballoon, wobbling and dangerously full of liquid, just waiting to pop.

He wasn't in control of his body anymore. He tried to resist as his hands haltingly went to his belt, his fingers steadfastly refusing to obey as they slowly undid the clasp. No _no **no nonono**_. _This wasn't happening_. He grit his teeth as his zipper was tugged down, and he pulled his cock out. 

He was in the middle of a crowded elevator of an impossibly tall building. 

He was giving a presentation at a meeting, and all eyes were on him. 

He was in the middle of a fancy date, trying to make a good impression. 

He was in the middle of a final exam, so important the door was locked. 

He tried to change the scenery to somewhere, _anywhere_ he wasn't supposed to pee, trying to will this not to happen.

Wake up. 

_Wake up_. 

_Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup_.

He woke up. 

Mark shuddered and groaned as soon as his eyes shot open, his legs squeezed around his hand painfully hard as he curled up in bed.

Oh _god, he had to pee so bad._ At least as badly if not worse than in the dream.

Slowly he sat up, his knees shaking slightly in desperation. He could see his swollen bladder jutting out on his abdomen, acutely aware of every ounce of liquid, begging to be released.

Mark blushed as he recalled _why_ exactly he had to pee so badly. The large bottle of water he'd chugged before settling into bed. His plans to have a little… "fun" when he woke up, finally recalled. God it was delicious how badly he had to go… but he'd admit it was too much for him to do anything. Whatever stiffy he'd be able to summon would barely rise up before his need to pee would override any pleasure-seeking. 

Gingerly he stood up from bed, his crotch firmly grasped as his bladder tried to cope with the sudden position change. With a shaky sigh he walked out the door, his bladder complaining with every step as he limped into the hall. He tugged at the knob of the bathroom door, but it didn't budge. His heart sank, and he pressed an ear to the wood, his heart sinking even lower, and his bladder shuddering as he heard the shower.

_Fuck_ , he thought to himself, _occupied_.

He whimpered as he sat back on the bed, jamming a pillow between his legs to try and help hold. It usually took about twenty minutes for his roommate to be done in the bathroom. He did the math. It had technically been about nine hours since he'd last gone, twenty minutes was _nothing._

Mark whimpered again as he shifted nervously, pressing the pillow against himself harder. Just a little longer he told himself, it had already been… five minutes. He would make it, he assured himself, he'd had to pee much worse than this in his dream, and had held out then. He shivered as he accidentally recalled all that he could, the siren's call of every opportunity to pee in his dream park still fresh in his mind.

He tried to clear his mind, to enter a meditative trance, but it was hard to relax when you really… _shouldn't_ relax. Ten minutes. He just had about ten minutes longer to last he reminded himself. He remembered the other times he'd counted down the minutes until he could pee. Like the last online event he'd played. He was ranking up until the last minute, refusing to stop until the final timer hit zero despite how full his energy drinks had left him. Or that one bet he'd taken on while drunk. He'd squirmed and complained as the clock ran out, but he'd still remained undefeated and didn't pee until the timer chimed, despite his opponents giving up by then.

He rocked against the pillow as he waited, desperate to hold out just a little while longer. He could _feel_ all the liquid inside of him, pressing against his urethra. His legs squeezed harder at the soft pillow as he shivered, another desperate wave passing through him.

Mark was counting seconds to try and stay focused. His need to pee was _all-consuming_. He'd changed positions, sitting and rocking against his heel as he tried to hold on, hoping more pressure would keep it in just a little longer. _Just a little bit longer…_ he told himself. 

Mark bolted to his feet the second he heard the doorknob turn, pinching the tip of his cock as he fought with his bladder for several fraught seconds against gravity. He ignored the bemused look of his roommate as he elbowed them out of the way, the door slamming behind him. 

His fingers fumbled with the knot in his pajama pants before he yanked them down, piss spraying out the moment his cock hit the cool air. He let out a deep, rumbling groan as he aimed for the bowl, the relief slowly washing over him. His piss thundered loudly in the small bathroom as the seconds stretched on. It felt as if his bladder had held an ocean's worth of urine, and it was hard to dispute with how he continued on. His bladder tingled faintly as his stream finally slowed, stuttered, then stopped with a few parting splashes. He let his mind wander as he cleaned up and walked back to his room. He regarded the second large waterbottle fondly, already aware his kidneys were likely still catching up after the previous wait. Let's see,if he drank that as well, it would be… no time at all before he'd be full again. His cock twitched as he uncapped the bottle. 

_Perfect._


End file.
